


You've Got Me Pegged

by kingcaboodle



Series: Modern Ukes in Thedas [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, One Shot, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingcaboodle/pseuds/kingcaboodle
Summary: A night of musing, banter, and strap-ons.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MossPrinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MossPrinx/gifts).



He isn’t sure how it happens, and he doesn’t spend much time dwelling on it. Samson had found that the fewer questions he asked, the less _strange_ his life seemed. Although, as he lies on his back, his knees pressed against his chest and Devi’s freezing hands wrapped around his thighs, he can’t help but feel that some form of reflection is justified.

 

She looks as nervous as he feels, the worry pushing her plump lips into a pout and causing the wrinkle above her nose to surface as she frowns. “Are you sure you want to do this?” She asks, her chirpy voice the sweetest lilt in his ears. “Because you look pale. Paler than usual, and that’s saying something, because you’re as white as the whitest thing I have ever seen in my life. You’re practically translucent, and I know that isn’t your fault, but what I’m saying is that you look pale, and I don’t want to force you into anything.”

 

He watches her mouth as she rambles. Maker, does he love the way her mouth moves. The way her lips round out even the most slurred of sounds lost in her rapid-fire speech. “Getting cold feet, Genlock?” He asks, voice husky inside of his own ears. “You seemed so,” his mind strays to the raunchy letters lying scattered on the small reading desk in the corner of the room, “eager on paper.” He chuckles as the color rushes to her face, creeping up her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

 

“You’re obviously ready,” she says, one hand straying from his thigh to grip his shaft. He doesn’t miss the smug look that crosses her face when he hisses, returning his growl with a deliberate stroke. “But this is the first time that I’ve worked with this particular set of equipment.” She tugs on the straps of the harness, neck twisting to examine it at every angle. “The BFG used one of his fancy Qun words for it, but in my neck of the woods we just call it a strap-on. And my experience has been pretty limited to dicking around on the internet in an incognito window, if you catch my drift.” She snorts, “Dicking around. No pun intended, of course.” A stoic look crosses her face, “What I’m saying is that I wasn’t really expecting to be pegging anyone, and I don’t have any practice.” She screws up her face, something he has only seen her do on the training field when planning her next method of attack. “I wish I was more prepared for this.”

 

Samson quirks an eyebrow, thrusting into her hand as she strokes him absently, still lost in thought. “Maker, Genlock, you’re more nervous about fucking than you are about Corypheus.” He wraps his hand around her wrist, pulling her in for a kiss. “If you’d like me to show you how it’s done, love,” he nips at her lower lip, wrapping a leg around her waist. “I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

 

“What,” she murmurs, mouth trailing kisses along his jaw line and sucking at his neck. “You’re going to fuck your own ass? Because I’d pay actual money to see that.”

 

“You are _foul._ ” He laughs, the still-unfamiliar sound leaving his throat as a bark as she rests her chin atop his heart, cold hands settling on either side of his face. He turns to place a feather-light kiss against her fingertips, still chuckling. “The mighty Inquisitor backing down from a challenge,” he says, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “If only your betters could see you now.”

 

“False, there is _no one_ better than I.” In a surprising show of dominance, she grips his chin and kisses him roughly. When she pulls back, her eyes are burning, and he knows that he’s struck a nerve. Her moment of grandeur is disrupted briefly when the bashful look makes its way back across her face, and she turns to look around the foot of the bed. “Wait a minute, I have lube – is it still called lube here? Either way, I have it – because I don’t know if you’re still _warmed up_ from earlier.” She leans back on her haunches, working the lubricant onto the rod. “Man, when I told Cullen to imagine me making the world’s slowest jerk-off motion, I honestly didn’t think I meant it literally.” She claps her hands, her palms colliding with an unappealing squelch. “Let’s do this thing, you pasty beefcake, you.”

 

“Your gift for romance knows no bounds,” he deadpans, drawing her against him once again. She smiles against his lips, her fingers leaving slippery tracks in his chest hair as she walks them down the length of his body. He is more nervous than he cares to admit, the unfamiliar instrument pressing against his ass doing little to soothe his anxiety.

 

She hums, mumbling gentle reassurances into his ear as her fingertip traces the tightened muscle, his hips twisting away involuntarily from her touch. “Maker’s breath, Genlock, why are your hands always so cold?” He mutters, his cheeks sizzling at the sound of her laugh.

 

“Poor circulation,” she says, sitting up and kissing the inside of his wrist.

 

“Get that,” he hisses as her finger slides in, her other hand releasing his wrist to grip him once more. “Get that,” his thoughts cloud as she manages to line up her strokes with her thrusting finger. His breath hitches, fist tangling in the sheets when she opens him further with a second finger. “See a healer,” he manages to gasp out, face reddening when she laughs at him.

 

“Oh, don’t do that,” she says as he throws an arm over his face in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. “You’re gonna miss the show!”

 

Samson can’t help but feel flustered. When it came to this new, unexpected life of intimacy, he had found himself faced with a level of insecurity that he had never thought possible. It wasn’t as though Devi had anything to do with it. Or rather, she was the root of everything, but not in the way one would expect. Samson’s eyes fly open in surprise when he feels the warmth of her mouth around him, her tongue flicking against the head of his shaft, her hand pausing from its slow caresses to massage his balls. He stares down, the moan caught in his throat finally drawn out when she gives him a wink.

 

 _That’s it_ , he thinks as he runs his fingers through her hair and watches her bobbing head through lidded eyes. _It’s when she looks at me like that._

 

Her head comes up with a pop, and he hears her giggling as she runs her tongue up the length of him. “How’s that?” she asks, “Or do you need to consult my betters?” She takes him in her mouth once more before he can even think to respond, the swirling movements of her tongue shooing away any hopes he might have of a clever retort. She hums in response to his moans, the vibrations of her throat only increasing the pooling pressure in his abdomen.

 

Before he can end their fun before it starts, Devi lifts her head gently pulls her fingers out of him. The look on her face can only be described as triumphant, and Samson can’t help but be glib as he stares up at her. “Don’t look so proud of yourself, Inquisitor. You haven’t won the battle yet.”

 

“Those are big words coming from Moaning Melvin over here.” She says, the smug look still plastered on her face. She rolls her eyes back, mouth dropping into an exaggerated look of ecstasy as she lowers her voice. “Oh, Genlock! Oh! Ahn! Uhn! Yeah!” One hand ushers his leg up while the other guides the protruding head of the strap-on against his ass. “Really, Samson, you look like a real-life ahegao picture. I didn’t expect this from you.”

 

She kisses him before he can speak, and for once he has nothing to say. She pushes the tip in slowly, opening him gradually to the unfamiliar sensation. He grunts, his body going rigid as he adjusts around it, hand straying past the leather of the harness to grip Devi’s ass roughly. She yelps, her hips jerking slightly. “Don’t do that!” She chides him. “Can’t you see I’m trying to take it slow with you, here? I’m not going to be the one to prolapse your anus, sir. I refuse.”

 

He makes a noise caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “That isn’t the most arousing image, love.” When she apologizes, her hips rocking slowly against his, he delivers a playful swat to her behind. “Comes with the territory.”

 

Her thrusts are slow, and Samson assumes that the speed is for both of their benefits. He can’t say he minds, the pace relaxing and the strokes pushing deeper and deeper until he’s sure that she’ll get lost within him. Devi picks up the pace, swatting his hand away when he moves to grip his cock. “Let me do that,” she says throatily, her hand moving from where it rests on his hip to pump him slowly. “Tonight’s all about _you_ , Raleigh. I just want to focus on making you feel good.”

 

“I can’t,” his words are backed up inside of his mouth, lost in the stream of grunts and the swirl of his own affections. “I can’t think when you say things like that. When you give me that look.” He raises his hips to meet each thrust.

 

“How do I look at you?” She asks, urging his leg up and opening him up impossibly deeper. Devi crosses her eyes, furrowing her thick brows and scrunching up her nose. “Is it this look? Because I don’t think I can stop. It’s my o-face.”

 

He laughs, the bark quickly becoming a moan that sticks in the back of his throat. She leans down, nipping at his earlobe before capturing his mouth once more. Even from behind his shut lids he can see the adoration pooling in those impossibly dark eyes, that wicked little mouth curling into a smile sweeter than any fine Orlesian confection. The pressure pools everywhere, the tension growing in his groin and spreading throughout his body in waves of heat. He opens his eyes, reaching up to cup her face. She kisses his palm, eyes glinting mischievously as she captures his wandering thumb between her lips.

 

In that moment the world ceases to exist around him, his hips jerking as one flick of her tongue sends him spiraling over the edge. Every muscle in his body clenches, the stars exploding behind his eyes. For a moment Samson thinks he might be dying, as wet and naked as he came into this world. He holds Devi against him with shaking hands until the haze finally clears, his clenched thighs parting as she slowly pulls out. For the first time he is the one lying spent, and panting on the bed, the sheets underneath his back damp with sweat. He can hear the harness drop unceremoniously to the floor before the mattress creaks with her return.

 

The cloth she rubs against his stomach is warm, and she kisses him on the forehead as she cleans him off. She tosses the rag aside, snuggling up to him and throwing her leg over his hip. “So,” she says, propping herself up on her elbow. “Was it good for you too?” When he responds by rolling into her, peppering her face with kisses, she shrieks with laughter. “I’ll take that as an enthusiastic yes.” Devi pulls him in close, and he listens to her heart slamming in her chest, her fingers toying lovingly with his hair.

 

They bask in the afterglow, the threat of sleep looming close at hand. “You know,” she says, her voice thick, “you’re not the only one who can’t think.” He hums in response, and she presses her lips to the top of his head. “That’s okay, though. We can be thoughtless together. Two thoughtless fools in love.” She pauses, “What do you think ever happened to The Cardigans?”

 

Samson snorts, settling further into her chest as she hums unfamiliar tunes in his ears. Perhaps being thoughtless and happy wasn’t so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Sick Cardigans reference, bro (but really, I listened to "Lovefool" about eight times while writing this).


End file.
